Carl's Adventure in Jamaica - 1. Carl's Adventure in Jamaica

As I exited the plane at the Montego Bay airport, I immediately felt a blast of Jamaica's warm, humid air in the little tunnel that led to the main air-conditioned part of the airport. I followed the other passengers to the baggage claim area. Standing nearby was an athletic-looking Jamaican man dressed in a tank-top shirt, shorts and tennis shoes holding a sign with my name on it.

"Mick?" I asked.

"Yeah, man, I'm Nick," he said, extending his hand for a handshake. He had a firm grip and a nice smile. I couldn't help noticing his firm biceps when we shook hands. His skin was the color of honey, and his hair was a bit shaggy, which didn't bother me since I was on vacation and was tired of being around men in expensive suits with perfectly-cut hair.

"Nice to meet you," I replied. "I'm Carl. Have you been waiting long?"

"Just ten minutes or so," he said.

"My friend at work had lots of nice things to say about you," I said. "He says you are a good cook and very familiar with sailing yachts around Jamaica."

"Yeah, man. I've been doing this ever since I was 16. I'm 35 now."

"Really? I'm 35 also. Anyway, we are really looking forward to this adventure," I said.

"Where are your friends?" he asked, looking around.

"My wife, brother and sister-in-law are all arriving tomorrow. I wanted to get here a day early so that I could have everything ready for them."

"The agency said you wanted me to take you on a grocery shopping trip," Mick said.

"Yes, that's right. Do you have time this morning?"

"Yeah, man. Of course. Whatever you want to do."

We collected my duffel bag and headed out to the parking lot. Mick led me to his Jeep, and soon we were driving through the Montego Bay area. I put my sunglasses on to shield my eyes from the bright sun.

"It feels great to be here on vacation," I said. "I'm a lawyer, and I was working long hours on a really big case. Finally the parties settled out of court, and I asked for some vacation time. This is such a relief."

"You are from New York City, right?" asked Mick.

"Yes," I replied. "I've lived there ever since I graduated law school."

"I've lived here in Jamaica all my life," said Mick. "I like it here. I love my job. Not only do I do what I enjoy, but people pay me to help them, so I'm doubly-blessed, man."

"That's great," I said. "I like what I do most of the time, but the commute to work is really tiring. Takes me 40 minutes to get to work."

Mick pulled the Jeep to a stop in the parking lot of a grocery store, and we went inside. We spent twenty minutes walking through the store buying food and supplies for the yacht. Mick gave a running commentary on what dishes he liked to cook and what methods he used for cooking on the yacht. I was happy to eat any dish, but my companions had certain preferences that had to be taken into consideration, so I had to veto a few of Mick's suggestions. Finally we rolled our cart to the check-out line, and I paid for the groceries.

"Ready to tour the yacht?" asked Mick. "We need to stow these groceries."

"Sure," I said. "Sounds great to me. I'm looking forward to seeing it."

We drove to the dock, parked nearby and carried bags of groceries to the yacht, which was moored alongside dozens of other boats, all glistening in the bright sun. Seagulls wheeled overhead. Some other couples were also stowing gear on their boats or getting ready to set sail.

"What do you think?" asked Mick, pointing to the yacht that I had rented.

"Looks just like the photo on the website," I replied. "It's beautiful."

Mick stepped onto the boat, and I followed. The upper level of the yacht featured a large covered area with leather seats. Down below was another level with a small galley, a tiny bathroom, a couch with a pull-out full-size bed, and a small bedroom with another full-size bed. My wife and I were going to share the bedroom, and my brother and his wife were going to share the pull-out bed.

"Where do you sleep, Mick?"

"I sleep on the top deck," he replied. "I have a sleeping bag."

I watched Mick as he stowed our first bags of supplies, and then we returned to the Jeep for the rest of them and stowed them too.

"Ready for lunch, man?" Mick asked. "The yacht club here has great hamburgers."

"Sounds great," I replied. "Let's go."

Mick led me around the maze of walkways where the yachts were berthed and led me to a small white building. I could smell the hamburger cooking on a grill as we got close to the entrance, and my hunger intensified. We got a table inside with a view of the harbor, and soon we were guzzling beer and munching on hamburgers, which tasted great, just as Mick had said.

"Can we take the boat out this afternoon after lunch?" I asked. "I'd like to get a feel for how it handles."

"Sure, man," replied Mick. "Whatever you say. My father was saying a storm was coming, but it sure looks sunny right now."

"I see some clouds in the distance," I said, "but they seem really far away."

"We should be fine," said Mick.

I paid for lunch and we returned to the yacht. Mick untied it and started up the motor, which purred like a kitten. He kept the speed low until we had reached the furthest buoy, and then he revved the engine and the boat took off, pounding through the choppy water at an impressive rate of speed.

"There's an island several miles away that I like to visit," said Mick. "That would be a nice afternoon trip."

"Sounds good to me," I said.

"Want to take the wheel?", Mick asked.

"Sure, I'd like that," I replied. We traded places, and I sat down behind the wheel in the captain's chair.

"Just keep the boat on its current course with the coast of the island in view on the starboard side," he instructed.

After an hour of pounding through the waves, they began to seem a bit taller and the wind picked up. The dark clouds were behind us, but they seemed to be getting closer. I began to feel a bit seasick. "Take the wheel, Mick. I'm not feeling so well."

"Just keep your eyes on the horizon, man," said Mick.

"Okay," I said, and I followed his instructions, but I still felt sick. Eventually I had to run to the side of the yacht and upchuck the remains of my lunch into the water. Mick slowed the boat down but kept it moving. After a few minutes I returned to the bridge. "I'm not used to sailing," I said. "Is the water always this rough?"

"No, man," Mick replied. "The water is rougher than usual because we've had some storms here in the last week. It should calm down after a day or two. Anyway, I see the island up ahead."

I looked where he was pointing and saw the island. As we got closer I realized it was much larger than I had imagined. It had docks for mooring boats and several restaurants and shops. Mick brought the yacht in and reversed the engines to slow it down. "Do you want to hop out and secure the yacht?" asked Mick.

"Sure thing," I replied. I grabbed end of one of the ropes, hopped onto the dock, and tied the knot in the same manner as the other boats nearby. Mick shut off the motor and tied the back of the boat to the dock.

"Glad to be back on land?" asked Mick.

"Yes, you bet," I replied, still feeling a bit woozy from the trip and its effects on my intestines. "Let's walk around and see the island."

"Sure thing, boss," said Mick.

We did some window shopping as we walked down the sidewalk. The island was clearly developed with tourists in mind. I wished my wife was with me, because I saw some jewelry in a window that I thought she would like. Perhaps we could return to the island with her the rest of our group on another day.

"Would you like to try some conch chowder?" asked Mick. "It might settle your stomach. There is a restaurant on the next block that has really good chowder."

"Sounds like a good idea," I said. "I'm starting to feel hungry again."

We found the restaurant and enjoyed the chowder and some bread. This time we avoided drinking beer and ordered soda instead. The chowder tasted wonderful, and it was nice to be sitting down on dry land. I paid our tab, and then we left the restaurant, noticing that the storm was getting closer and the wind was blowing harder.

"Do you want to spend the night here?" asked Mick. "There's a small motel here on the island. Then we could avoid being out on the water in bad weather."

"Good idea," I replied. "I think my stomach needs a rest."

I followed Mick down the street past an open area where vendors sold crafts from stalls, until we reached a small motel that looked as though it had once been a large house.

"Wait out here, and I'll go talk with them," said Mick.

"Okay," I said, feeling a bit puzzled about why he didn't want me to accompany him to the front desk. I stood in a covered area, because a light rain had begun.

After a few minutes Mick reappeared. "I have some good news and some bad news," he said with a smile. "The good news is that they have a room. The bad news is that they only have one room and it only has one queen-size bed. I could leave you here and go back to the yacht, but with the weather conditions the way they are, I probably would not sleep well."

I hesitated for a moment. "Well, if this is the only option, I guess we could share the bed. I don't snore very much. At least my wife doesn't complain if I do."

"Okay, man. No problem. We will be able to return tomorrow morning in time to pick up your wife and the others."

Mick suggested that we head over to another favorite spot of his, where we listened to live reggae music and drank beer. As I sat there I remembered the last time I shared a bed with another guy. I was thirteen years old, and I had invited a friend from school over to watch a movie with me. We were in my full-size bed, and when he said goodnight, he reached over and squeezed my balls, then laughed. I reacted by smacking his hand and saying "Hey!" As I laid quietly next to him, though, I got a raging boner that I concealed. The boner lasted for about a half hour until I finally fell asleep.

Eventually Mick and I returned to the motel and settled in for the night. We didn't have extra clothes, so I just stripped down to my boxers and got in bed. Mick did the same. I was plenty tired, so I fell asleep quickly.

In the night I left a hand grab my privates. I remembered instantly that I was in bed with Mick. Groggy with sleep I didn't react outwardly at first. I started to turn onto my stomach to signal I wasn't interested, but then I remembered that time when I was 13 and decided to hold still and see what happened next. At first Mick's hand stayed motionless on my privates, but with a grip that told me he was awake. Then slowly his thumb began to rub the back of my penis, which gradually got stiffer. The fabric of my boxers was holding it down, but I had a feeling it would not be stuck in that position for long. After awhile his hand found its way through the front opening of my boxers, and he was able to maneuver my penis to point upward. He began light strokes again. I felt intense pleasure sensations radiating from my penis, which grew stronger and stronger, and I moaned softly. Mick continued his light strokes until my penis got even harder. Suddenly he squeezed the tip of my penis and removed his hand.

"Not so fast, young man," he said. He got out of the bed and ambled into the bathroom, returning with two towels. He carefully placed the first towel under my penis, which was sticking out of the slit in my boxers, and he dropped the other towel on my legs. The light in the room was extremely dim. The time must have been about 5 a.m., because a tiny amount of light from the sun was showing through the curtains. Mick stood next to my side of the bed and slid his boxers off. Hearing the sound I opened my eyes and saw his bulging cock. One look was enough to spur me to pull my boxers off as well. I dropped them on the floor next to the bed.

Mick got back in bed and snuggled up to me. His hand found my balls, and he grasped them firmly and squeezed them a bit. Then he grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand over to his penis. My hand rested on it for a few seconds, and then I began to rub it. "When I hired you to help us tour Jamaica, I didn't realize I was going to tour this part of Jamaica," I said.

"This is the best part," he replied. "I wouldn't want you to miss it."

"Very funny," I replied.

Mick's hand returned to my balls and gave them another squeeze, and I was reminded to continue stroking his penis. He rested for several minutes, doing nothing except squeezing my balls whenever my hand slowed its pace on his penis. Eventually he grabbed the towel he had left on my legs and pushed it under his penis. I continued rubbing until his penis exploded in bursts of warm, sticky semen, which I felt on my hand and wrist.

Mick rubbed some of his semen off my wrist and used it as a lubricant on my penis. He stroked my penis rapidly with his fist, and after a minute I ejaculated also. We laid there quietly for a few minutes. Then we rolled up the towels and set them on the floor. Just before I went back to sleep I said, "When I wake up, I'm not going to remember any of this."

"Neither am I," Nick replied. "Neither am I."